Clothes Don't Make the Man
by darke wulf
Summary: Kirk and Spock. A dress. A hotel room. Fun ensues.


Clothes Don't Make the Man

(but they do make him that much more irresistible)

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. I'm not making money from them._

_Warning: This was a quick and dirty fill for a prompt at the kink meme that I really had no intention of writing. Unfortunately my muse had other ideas. Be warned, however, that this story has not been Beta'd. Additionally, several clichés and general mushiness have been included, and Spock gets a bit OOC in my opinion. _

_Really, this is pretty much nothing but a shameless PWP _

_That being said, I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Jim hummed softly to himself as he made the finishing touches to his make-up. The _Enterprise_ was in orbit above Risa for a scheduled one-week shore leave. A leave he had been looking forward to for months now. He had been itching for a chance to dress up, but didn't feel comfortable enough yet to do so while on his ship. Not that he thought his crew would think ill of him, but he was new enough in his captaincy to be leery of presenting himself as anything but a virile, macho, slightly hormone driven human male.

Which was decidedly not how he appeared at the moment. Stepping back, he took a moment to appreciate his appearance in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall of his hotel room.

He had chosen a light lemon yellow mini dress, tastefully sequined, with spaghetti straps. It was just long enough to prevent any embarrassing accidents. He had paired it with a black tuxedo jacket in deference to the chilly weather and a pair of black, thigh-high stiletto boots – he wished he could have gone with a strappy sandal instead, but he had… issues… with the appearance of his feet.

He wasn't big on make-up. He stuck to eyeliner, mascara, and a little lip gloss. Just to enhance two of his favorite – and best – features. He had reluctantly added a wig to his outfit. Usually when he went out he did so as himself, whether in pants or a skirt, but not wanting to be recognized by his crew he had picked up a pixie-cut wig with hair a few shades lighter than his own.

Pleased at what he saw, he grabbed his small, golden clutch and moved towards the door of his room.

The sudden, irritatingly insistent call of his communicator pulled him up short. Heaving a sigh, he opened the purse and removed his communicator.

"Kirk here."

"I apologize for disturbing you while you are on leave, Captain, but a transmission has come through from Starfleet Command that requires your immediate attention and signature."

"They couldn't have sent this yesterday? I've had my shore leave request in for MONTHS. I bet this is Komack's doing, the bastard."

"If you would like, Captain, I will beam down to your hotel with the message. In that way you would be able to read and sign it expediently, leaving you able to return to enjoying your leave with the shortest amount of disturbance."

"No! I mean, nah, that's all right, Spock. I was getting ready to go out, and I'm not really decent at the moment. Give me a few minutes to cha… get some clothes on. I'll have Scotty beam me up when I'm ready. Kirk out."

"Dammit all to fucking hell," Jim muttered as he angrily grabbed the garment bags and wig box from the closet. Placing them on the bed, he first removed his wig and put it back in its box. Once the wig was back in the closet he carefully removed his jacket, not wanting to wrinkle it before he had a chance to even wear it.

He zipped the jacket into the bag and hung it up – hopefully whatever it was that Komack had sent could be taken care of quickly enough to allow him to still go out that night. He was moving towards the bed so he could sit down to take off his shoes when a knock came from the door to the room.

He looked over to the door in confusion. No one knew where he was except Scotty, who had beamed him down just outside the hotel. But he wasn't due for leave for three days. Jim walked over to the security console next to the door and activated the screen while another round of knocks struck the door.

The unmistakable image of his First Officer appeared on the monitor. "Shit, Spock!"

Panicking, Jim looked down at his attire, and then back at the door, just as Spock called out, "Captain, are you well?"

"Shit, shit, shit, shit…" Jim ran as quickly as his shoes allowed to the closet and grabbed a large, fluffy robe, throwing it on over his clothes and fastening it tightly.

"One second, Spock. I'll be right there."

Jim took his time returning to the door, trying to calm his nerves and collect himself. When there, he took a deep, fortifying breath and opened the door slightly, standing off to the side to attempt to hide his shoes behind the door.

"What are you doing here? I told you I'd be right up."

"Indeed, but I deemed it more logical for me to bring the missive to you. As First Officer, I have access to the leave plan you logged, and thus was able to contact the hotel and discern which room you had been assigned."

"In spite of my orders to the contrary."

"You never ordered me to await your return to the ship, Captain. Given your atypical reaction to my original communications, I ascertained it would be prudent for myself to come planet side and ensure your well being."

"You know, in spite of what you and Bones seem to believe, I am capable of looking after myself."

"So you claim, Captain. Now, if you will allow me entrance, we may discuss the Admiralty's message."

Spock, not expecting any resistance, started moving forward into the room even as he spoke. Jim was caught off guard by the movement, and quickly stepped backwards to get out of the way of the opening door. In doing so, however, he took a misstep in his heels and wound up falling to the ground in an undignified heap.

"Ow!" he cried, rubbing his ass, unaware of the fact that his robe had come partially undone, exposing his attire to quite interested Vulcan eyes.

"May I assume from your attire that you were planning to visit a drinking establishment and secure a partner for the evening?" Spock inquired, moving fully into the room and closing and locking the door behind him.

"My attire… Fucking hell," Jim groaned, panic seizing him momentarily as he realized his secret had been discovered. As was his wont, he quickly buried the fear with anger. "You know what, that's hardly your business, Commander. I'm on leave. None of my plans involve behavior that would in any way endanger the _Enterprise_ or her crew. Therefore, they are absolutely no concern of yours."

"It appears that Nyota was correct. I should indeed have been more direct in my pursuit of you."

"Nyota… pursuit… what the hell are you talking about? Did you get into the sex pollen again?"

"I have been attempting to indicate my interest in beginning a romantic relationship with you for the past three point two five months. Nyota had warned me that I was not being direct enough in my efforts, but until this moment I had assumed her advice was meant in jest."

Spock offered his hand to the still seated Jim. After a startled glance at the Vulcan, he hesitantly put his own hand in the larger one and allowed Spock to pull him up. He teetered for a moment on his heels after the sudden shift in position, and Spock moved his free hand to Jim's elbow to help steady him.

Becoming increasingly uncomfortable in a situation in which he had never – well, maybe dreamed, but never expected – to find himself, Jim took the first idea that came to him to interrupt… whatever was happening.

"So, what was so important that you had to interrupt my leave?"

Jim was shocked when he saw a slight – oh so slight, but still noticeable – blush arise on Spock's face.

"I admit, Captain, I may have misrepresented the situation slightly."

"Really?" Jim smiled, amused in spite of himself to see his usually composed First Officer so out of sorts.

"Quite. While you did indeed receive a message from Admiral Komack, it is not of an urgent nature, and a response can easily be delayed until you are back on duty."

"Uh huh. So the whole 'urgent message' business was really just… what, an excuse to come see me?"

"I admit to being somewhat… unsettled… by your obvious intentions for your leave."

Jim's smile deepened, and his right hand came up to cup Spock's face. "I'll let you in on a little secret. While I had every intention of going out and having a good time, I never intended to 'secure a partner' tonight for anything except dancing – and not the horizontal kind."

Spock swallowed. "Truly?"

"Indeed. Lately all my more romantic and licentious thoughts seem to be stuck on one individual in particular. Someone whom I had assumed was untouchable, at least for me. Only now I find that such is not necessarily the case."

"Indeed. May I ask, what have you done to your eyes? I find they appear even more brilliant than usual."

The reminder of his current attire brought a screeching halt to the confident sexpot. "Oh, it's just a little eyeliner and mascara. Makes the blue pop a bit more."

"I must concur. The effect is most remarkable."

"Thanks." Kirk smiled up at Spock, though it was still tinged in uncertainty.

"In fact, I find your attire most appealing. I was not aware that you wore such clothing."

"Yeah, well, it's not like it's really that big a deal, I know. It's just, with everybody looking over my shoulder, waiting to jump on any little flaw, I guess I'm just a little paranoid about letting anything too personal become common knowledge."

"That is most unfortunate. I suspect you would look most compelling in the short* version of the standard Starfleet uniform."

Jim had to laugh at that. "Yeah, well, I'm sure I'll be back to my usual overconfident self once things settle down a bit. Then we'll see about confirming that hypothesis."

Spock moved closer to Jim and wrapped his arms around him, murmuring into Jim's ear, "I would not be adverse to conducting the appropriate experiments in private. Delaying the pursuit of knowledge should always be discouraged. And I am not certain that I wish others to be able to see you dressed thusly – I find you to be particularly compelling in your current attire."

And with that Jim snapped. Holding Spock's face between his hands, he brought their lips together in a passionate kiss. When Spock's arms merely tightened their hold, Jim let himself go, licking at Spock's lips, begging for entrance.

When Spock opened his mouth, Jim pressed him tongue inside, exploring the deliciously cool** orifice. Moments later, Spock's tongue joined in the dance, twisting around his own sensually and brining a moan of approval.

Determined to give as much pleasure as he could, Jim moved his right hand face, tracing patterns, pinching and exploring on its way to Spock's own hand. Jim extended his first two fingers, rubbing them against Spock's in what he hoped was a pleasing way.

He assumed he succeeded, as Spock suddenly gained a new intensity. Tangling his hand in Jim's hair, he devoured Jim's mouth, using tongue and teeth and surely some sort of magic to reduce Jim to a quivering mass of need. At the same time, he further entwined the fingers of their now joined hands, never stopping their stroking. Jim hadn't realized just how sensitive his fingers actually were.

Finally not able to ignore his burning lungs any longer, Jim pulled away to gasp air in heaving breaths. Unperturbed, Spock moved his attentions to Jim's neck, suckling at the joint between neck and shoulder briefly before biting down with just the right amount of pressure.

"Ng." Fuck, sex with a touch telepath was obviously had even more potential than he had previously considered. "Bed. Now."

Continuing to nibble at Jim's neck, Spock lowered the hand that had been directing their kiss until it was around Jim's waist, then he lifted Jim, as if his weight was insignificant. Jim quickly caught on, and wrapped his legs around Spock. When their groins came in contact he threw his head back, eyes rolling back with the unexpected wave of pleasure.

* * *

Sorry all. Due to the rating restrinctions on this site, for the naughty bits you'll need to see the complete post at my Live Journal. Link to Journal can be found in my profile.

Link to rest of story: darke-wulf (dot) livejournal (dot) com (slash) 34545 (dot) html

* * *

Jim gave a contented hum, making himself comfortable on his new mattress. His own arms went around Spock while he nuzzled his face into the Vulcan's neck, taking a deep sniff of the spicy scent that was uniquely Spock.

Jim knew they would need to be getting up soon. Neither was dressed for a comfortable nap – Jim's boots alone could do serious damage to the unwary. But he was content to savor the moment for as long as possible.

And imagine Spock's reaction to the science-blue teddy he had picked up shopping that morning.

* * *

_* The idea for the "short" and "long" versions of the Starfleet uniforms came from another prompt which I cannot find at the moment. If you happen to know it, please let me know and I will link._

_** From what I have been able to dig up, in spite of innumerable fanfics to the contrary, it is actually canon that Vulcans have a lower body temperature than humans._


End file.
